domenica, maggio 05, 2013

I am loosing five hours
wages at the Hat shop every time I go to model for him, but I suppose
it's nice to be off my feet……okay…time to look paintable. Eyes closed,
shoulders forward, chin up…hold still, hold still, hold still. "Lovely"
he might say, "loveliness gone from our fallen world" He was always
saying things like that, like a play that I have no lines in….he might
say….Ah, how your face haunts me in your absence….like and angel, those
mornings I might become an angel, Madonna, Beatrice. Although as far as I
could tell I was still only Lizzy…….minding my manners and working at
the Hat Shop. All my flaws might be smoothed away then….oil under the
brush…..pock mark, sour word….gone as if they had never been. And then
he might say something especially poetical, his muse, he'd say, his
dear, his life, his fate, and she would grace him with a smile and his
cheeks would colour and he would smile back and I…..I might say
nothing….nothing at all…..because, I know that, in truth, he was not
addressing me…………….